


Tether

by KiltedGuy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: I am furry trash, I don’t even play this game, M/M, Too pure for the Moon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-01 11:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15141851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiltedGuy/pseuds/KiltedGuy
Summary: For Ten years they’ve searched, in their own way. Winston and the resources of overwatch, then Athena. Hammond, listening to news broadcasts and whatever information he could, quite literally, dig up from the country’s scrap heaps.Both fear they’re looking for a lost cause.





	1. Dumpster Diving

It wasn’t often he missed the climate controlled confines of the moon base, but there were days after squirming through yet another pile of Omnic parts, mech scraps and irradiated weapon components that Horizon looked downright  _attractive_. Even with the rampaging killer apes.

With his Mech on automated sentry duty, Hammond squirmed onto a likely looking bundle of circuit boards, running his fingers carefully over each diode. With a chitter of disgust, he tossed the burnt out  board aside and started crawling deeply, more than once cursing his more generous physique. If he was lucky the deeper stuff would have been protected by whatever doomsday weapon the humans set off...

He had never thought that finding working, or even salvageable communication equipment would have been so hard. Even the junker town he had spent most of his time after his none too subtle arrival had nothing beyond a few short range Walkie Talkies that looked like they were pulled out of a burnt out ToysRUs.

Tying some likely looking scrap to the wire he had pulled in with him, the enhanced hamster dug down deeply for his last run of the evening. Scavengers has already picked over the choice items, even if they had no real clue what to do with them in his opinion, but there was always a chance they had missed something in their rush. Paws traced shapes and nostrils flared, checking for the unfortunatly familiar scent of burnt plastic and metal, freezing up as a sharp, sweet scent tickled his nose.

On auto pilot, he turned away from the burnt scrap and gripped onto whatever was giving out that hauntingly familiar smell, cursing as only a rodent could as he backed out of the pile the way he came, grudgingly admiting his size may have some use after all as his prize easily slid through the gaps he made. Emerging once more in the relentless Australian sunshine, he blinked several times as his eyes adjusted, watching the blurry red object focus into...

Hammond felt his breath catch in his throat as the bright red lid, barely stained by dust and grime, with its faded peanut sticker right in the middle.

Memories flickered through the back of his mind like an old fashioned film reel, losing himself in them for a few moments...

_The vent was easily, carefully prised open, a short length of scrap he had picked up from the fabricator down in maintainable keeping it open for a quick escape. Peering into the room, he let out a short squeak of amusement: several gadgets and tools seemingly scattered at random, but would make the perfect series of stepping stone for even the largest of altered rodents._

_The room’s sole other occupant was at a desk, fiddling with several peices of tech and the ever present tub laying just within reach. Despite complaining at how undignified it was sometimes, Hammond scampered over on all fours and easily began to climb, the figure pausing as his grip transferred from chair to fur before calming, returning to his examination._

_”You shouldn’t be in here you know.”_

_Hammond gave a short smile that he knew was matched by his friend, clambouring up to his shoulder and setting himself down into a seating position. Like clockwork, a small quarter of a cracker was passed up, loaded with the sweet peanuty goodness they craved, tiny hands reaching out impatiently._

_”It’ll go straight to your hips you know.”_

_The hamster nudged the side of Winston’s head with an elbow as he grabbed at the offering, leaning forward to examine the half constructed device the gorilla had held up for examination. Between mouthfuls, he squeaked various questions and recommendations, watching surprisingly nimble fingers follow his suggestions._

_Licking the remains of his illicit treat from his fingers, he settled against Winston’s fur, ignoring the ape’s amused chuckles even as they threatened to dislodge him..._

Hammond gripped the edge of the old lid tightly, the rim of plastic biting into his paws until he forced himself to let go. The ache in his palms would last a while, uncomfortably mimicking the weight in his chest. Shaking his head to clear it, he dragged the lid back towards his Mech and scavenged treasures, tiny claws working into almost invisible catches in the armoured skin of his transport, running fingers over various purloined or constructed tools he had amassed since his modification. A heated scalpel blade made quick work of the plastic, tracing round the outline of the peanut, and a spot of epoxy within his cockpit gave a splash of colour to the steel grey and plastic black confines of his transport and prison.

The recovered scrap parts were tossed a little more carelessly than usual into the hold, the hamster having lost his drive for more junk sifting. Returning his Mech to pilot mode, he steered back towards the Junker outpost he had been earning some coin at, hoping he could jump into a match as soon as he got back.

All these little reminders he kept coming across... Double edged swords the lot of them. Bringing up happier memories, only to bring the uncomfortable possibility afterwards.

Maybe only he had survived re-entry. In his haste to get the pair of them away from the deathtrap Horizon has became... if he had spent a little more time going over the numbers, did a little more testing that didn’t involve toys for crying out loud... would his tether had snapped? Would they have careened out of control hitting the atmosphere?

Would his Fuzzy Buddy be nearby instead of... buried in wreckage or submerged under the ocean or picked apart by scavengers...

The challenge thrown at him as he rolled in through the gates was a welcome distraction from his more morbid thoughts, grasping his weaponry controls tightly.


	2. Data Trawling

Things were... Different now than they were before.

Not particularly good or bad, just different.

For starters, most people tended to treat him with some actual respect. Or if they were indifferent to him, they were the same with everyone.

Looking at you Soldier.

He also had full access to every resource Overwatch had and it rankled something he kept carefully buried to realise just how gullible he had been at the start. Maybe if he was searching for another Ape, a genius bruiser like himself instead of a hamster... an admittedly genius hamster, but still a hamster, then the old guard would have taken his request more seriously.

The downside being, as the technically de-facto senior member of Overwatch as he never really  _left_ , he couldn’t just spend his days digging through news reports, rumours and tabloids. There were reports. Meetings. Expense accounts. Sometimes a whole week would go by without even a spare hour to tinker around in his lab.

Tracer, bless her, had tried to get him to delegate some of the work, but that was how the first Overwatch fell in the first place. Too many people allowed for secrets to slip between. Secrets that, even now, they were realising the full scope of. No, best to keep numbers as small as possible to keep everything transparent. Honest.

He would quite happily hand over Birthday Cake duty to someone, anyone else though. After the Candle Incident however, no one would touch that assignment with a ten foot pole.

Approving yet another expense request to the Junker duo, Winston swiped the screen clear with a sigh, rubbing at his face wearily with both hands as he feet opened the small desk cupboard below.

”Athena? Time?”

The stylised A faded into view on his screen, the faintly accented tones of Overwatch’s AI flowing through the intercom.

”Eleven Thirteen Winston. It has been Twenty Four hours, Thirty Seven Minutes and Eleven seconds since you last slept. Perhaps it’s time to call it a night.”

Letting out a non commital grunt while transferring one of his personal stash from foot to hand, he tapped a brief staccato of keys, finger hovering over the enter key, letting out a sigh despite himself.

”Athena? Be honest. What do you think the odds are?”

The normally chatty AI was silent, with only the glow of her symbol illuminating the ape’s face. Seconds ticked past before Athena spoke up, and if Winston was any guess he would consider her tone hesitant.

“I do not believe you should give up. You survived. So may he. However... I currently predict the odds of locating him this run at One point Two Five Eight percent.”

His finger hovered hesitantly before slamming down on the key, activating the search algorithm he had created years ago. News reports, police broadcasts, military transmissions, covert government databases... Overwatch’s influence had allowed him to search further, dig deeper, and yet still...

Absentmindedly scooping some of the nutty paste from its jar, he let his eyes close for a moment, his mind pulling him back several years...

  _“You really shouldn’t antagonise Dr Winston so much...”_

_The ape couldn’t hide the smile in his voice however, watching 8 pull out several “acquired” parts and tools, setting himself down carefully besides the still growing pile. A blueprint, more of a sketch really, on a partly used napkin lay propped up against the nearest table leg, the hamster following a few sections with a finger._

_”Maybe he should start letting me out that cage more often then. They’re making me run mazes. Mazes 28! What do I have to do, write out the theory of gravity in pellets?”_

_28 decided to remain quiet as he passed over whichever part the hamster gestured at, mapping out the construction mentally. It was true that 8 had demonstrated his impressive intellect several times to the scientists running operations on Horizon, and it was also unfortunately true that his creations and ideas had been mistaken for any of the other subject’s work. And in one memorable case, stolen by one of the more lacklustre brains running the show._

_”After this, no one can ignore me... This beauty is gonna be the envy of the Aeronautics division. Sleek exterior, roomy interior, gyroscopic rotators, grappling hook...”_

_28 paused as he was handing over one of several gyroscopes, raising an eyebrow._

_”Grappling hook?”_

_With a determined squeak and a nod, 8 began rubbing his paws together, giving an oddly toothy grin._

_”Grappling Hook.”_

_Shrugging, 28 handed the part over, watching as the core of what would become 8’s new mode of transportation slowly take shape before telltale footsteps started heading down the hallway. With ease of months of practice, he shoved the half built Mech into hiding, helping 8 and the unused parts into the air ducts again._

_”Thanks Fuzzy Buddy. Nice to know someone’s got my back here.”_

_Grinning at the ape’s incredulous stare, he gave a wink as he grapped at the steel rod holding the vent open._

_”Can’t keep calling you a number now, can I?”_

_Chittering in laughter, he yanked the rod out of place, 28 scrambling to grab the vent cover before it clanged shut, lowering it just in time for the hiss of pneumatics announcing his opening door._

_”Good afternoon Subject 28. And how are we today?”_

The soft beeping of Athena’s console pulled him back from the memory, grunting as he leaned forward to look over the results. Tentative hope burned brightly, but faded quickly to a soft glowing ember as his eyes skimmed the report, tapping the screen closed with a sigh.

”There is always Hope Winston. Much stranger things have happened since you activated the recall.”

Winston nodded slowly, removing his glasses and reaching for the catches of his armour. A few hours sleep would recharge his optimism once more, but as he was climbing up to his makeshift nest of cushions, blankets and quilts, he had to be honest with himself.

As much as he wanted to believe, every failed result was causing that little spark of hope to dim a little further. The last uncomfortable thought before he allowed fatigue to pull him into dreamless oblivion was wondering how long before he would stop searching...


End file.
